NovelUSAChapter 459 Ever since she'd found out her daughter was living at Verona Heights, Hilda didn't hesitate—she moved in the very next day, settling into the apartment right below Citrine's.
That afternoon, Citrine arrived hjust in tto see Hilda in the middle of her move. Hilda, sunglasses perched on her nose, directed the movers with crisp efficiency, exuding her usual commanding presence.
As soon as she spotted Citrine, Hilda slid her sunglasses off. Her expression wavered between surprise and something like delight, as if she'd been caught off guard but was secretly pleased.
Citrine walked over, still unsure what to make of it all. "You moved into Verona Heights?" Hilda nodded, lying smoothly. "Mm, it's closer to the office. Much more convenient." Citrine had her doubts, but with that answer, she let it drop.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtGlancing at the pile of luggage and boxes at Hilda's feet, Citrine offered politely, "Need a hand with anything?" Hilda smiled, waving her off. "No, no, I've got these guys to help me." There was no way she'd let her daughter haul boxes around. Just the thought made her heart ache.
Citrine smiled faintly, realizing she wouldn't get anywhere insisting, and made to leave. But just as she turned, Hilda called after her.
"Citrine, it's my first night in the new place. To celebrate, I'll make a special dinner why don't you cdown and join me?" Then, as if to reassure her, Hilda added, "I'm right below you, so it's easy." Citrine agreed with a smile. Looking into her mother's hopeful eyes, she just couldn't bring herself to say no. Back upstairs, Citrine took a long hot bath, then slipped into her robe and stretched out on the couch, letting herself get lost in a TV show.
Meanwhile, chaos reigned in Hilda's kitchen. The once-spotless counters were buried under flour, vegetable peelings, and a growing stack of dirty pans. A skillet lay on the floor, still smoldering. Hilda hovered at the center of the storm, on the verge of despair.
Her whole life, she'd been the picture of authority-a powerhouse in business. Who would've guessed she'd meet her match in hcooking? The clock was ticking. Dinner twas looming, and Hilda knew she couldn't let this golden opportunity to bond with her daughter slip away.
Thinking quickly, she grabbed her phone and dialed Nathalie, the Saunders family's longthousekeeper. For over twenty years, Nathalie had kept the Saunders household running, her cooking skiffs legendary among family and friends.
Nathalie arrived in a rush. One look at the kitchen disaster and her eyelid twitched.
"Ma'am," she sighed, "if you wanted something special, you just had to tell me. I could've brought it up. Why put yourself through this?" Hilda shook her head, a determined smile on her face. "That won't do. I want my daughter to eat a meal I've made myself." Hearing Hilda mention "Miss Citrine," Nathalie paused, tempted to ask questions, but in the end she bit her tongue, not wanting to upset her employer.
With a resigned sigh, she said, "All right, I'll teach you. Tellwhat you want to learn." Hilda remembered that Citrine seemed to prefer vegetarian dishes the last tthey ate together, so she rattled off a few names.
With Nathalie's encouragement, Hilda grew more confident. "With you teaching me, I'll get it right this tfor sure."
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmIt was easier said than done. Once they got started, Nathalie couldn't help thinking speople are born to conquer boardrooms, not kitchens.
The more they cooked, the more Nathalie realized she was in over her head. No matter how much she coached, Hilda's attempts seemed doomed. In the end, after a Herculean effort, Hilda managed to produce seven dishes- barely edible, but technically food.
Nathalie wanted to suggest Hilda taste them first, but seeing how proud she looked, she just couldn't bring herself to burst her bubble.
Well, she thought, let's just hope for the best for whoever has to eat this tonight.
With everything as ready as it would ever be, Hilda called Citrine downstairs.
Citrine, still in her robe, didn't bother to change. She slipped out hen door and padded down to the apartment below, ringing the bell. Within moments, Hilda opened the door, beaming.
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